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Chapter Twenty-Three

Elias

I could barely feel my legs beneath me as I walked through the sterile hospital halls, dragging that damn stuffed deer in my grip. I couldn’t let go. It was my grounding point the moment Ronan was incarcerated, and now I needed it more than ever. The world around me felt distant, like I was moving through some kind of fog, each step slower than the last. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with an almost mocking steadiness, indifferent to the chaos unraveling inside me.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

Ronan.

Ronan had been hurt. Badly. The cop’s words, those brutal, crushing words, kept echoing in my head.

Assaulted. Raped. Brutalized.

My stomach twisted into a tight knot, and I wanted to scream. The images in my mind were unbearable. I could barely hold onto myself, let alone keep my composure long enough to walk to his room. The cop assured him he’d be safe. How could anyone say he would be safe after this happened?

The doctors said he was stable. I reminded myself.

But what did that even mean?

How could he be stable after that?

How could he be okay after what they’d done to him?

I felt sick. I wanted to run, tear down the halls, demand answers, do something—anything to fix this. But all I could do was follow the doctor’s lead, my feet heavy, my body betraying me with every slow step. I tried to hold the tears back, wanting to be strong for Ronan. I didn’t want to feel weak at this moment.

“He’s in here,” the cop said, his voice too calm, too distant.

I couldn’t focus on his face, the way his eyes avoided mine. All I could see was the room in front of me. The door cracked open just enough to see Ronan’s form. I stepped through it as if in a daze. The cop stayed outside, and my heart was already in my throat.

There he was. He looked so…broken.

I almost didn’t recognize him, the way his body lay still in the bed, the way the machines beeped quietly beside him, monitoring his fragile state. And those chains on his wrist, the handcuffs that locked him to the bed despite him being unconscious.

It made me sick.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, but my hands felt like they were made of stone. Every part of me screamed to do something, to make it right, but the reality was raw and cruel.

He was hurt, and I was helpless to save him…just like when we were kids.

He pushed me away with smiles and lies to protect me when it was always him who needed to be saved.

All the years of Jack’s abuse, Miranda’s ignorance, and society’s pressures…he did it all.

Alone.

And now history was thrown in my face. He was still fighting a losing battle where he took on the entire world. If only he would have let me in. I…

I hadn’t been there to protect him.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t stop the sting in my eyes and hold back the tears that blurred my vision anymore.

How had we gotten here?

How had this happened to him?

Why were people so cruel?

I walked toward him slowly, my heart aching with every step.

His face was bruised and swollen in places, and his lips cracked. His eyes were shut, like he could erase the world around him and hide behind his eyelids. I almost couldn’t bear to look at him, to see how much pain he’d endured. But I forced myself to move closer, my hand trembling as I reached for his.

He was warm.

He was warm in a way that made my chest tighten with relief, yet it made my heart ache worse. I gently brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead, my fingers lightly grazing his skin, but he didn’t stir.

His breathing was steady but shallow, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was even still here with me. There was a bandage covering his knuckles, showing how hard he fought.

“Ronan,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, afraid he would blow away from me altogether if I spoke any louder. “I’m here. I’m here…I’m so sorry.”

I could feel the tears threatening again, but I fought them back. I had to be strong for him. I had to be. He needed me.

“I wasn’t there,” I continued, my voice breaking. “I should have been there. I should’ve…I shouldn’t have listened to you. I don’t know how this happened. But I swear to you, I won’t let them get away with this. I won’t let this break you, Ronan. Not when you are finally free.”

I didn’t know if he could hear me. I didn’t know if he even understood, but I needed to say it. I needed him to know that I wasn’t going to leave him to suffer alone.

I lowered my head, pressing my forehead gently against his, as if I could somehow transfer every ounce of comfort I had into him, if only for a moment. I willed God to let me endure his pain and implored him to let me bear the weight.

The guilt—It was suffocating.

It felt like it was suffocating me from the inside out, and I couldn’t shake it. I should’ve protected him. I should’ve known they were going after him after what he said to me. I should have warned someone to get him moved somewhere else.

I was careless and too focused on Miranda.

I failed him.

I failed his mother, and I failed her son. And now he was here, broken, fragile—too fragile for this world, for this life, for all of the cruelty it had thrown at him.

I pulled back after a while, my heart still heavy in my chest. I kissed his fingers, treasuring his warmth and reminding myself he was alive. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay, that he was safe now, but the truth was, I didn’t know if it would ever be okay.

How could he be okay after they took so much from him?

What had been done to him couldn’t be undone.

The scars would always remain.

I stayed there for what felt like hours, just sitting beside him, holding his hand, talking to him in whispers, hoping that somehow, someway, he could hear me. I told him about everything I hadn’t said before—the things I was too afraid to tell him, the fears I’d kept hidden.

I held all my dreams and fantasies so close to my heart, everything from our childhood to my conversations with the other members of the church.

I laid out my entire life.

I spoke of my guilt for the woman who died because of my actions and my carelessness. I told him how much I loved him, how much I needed him, how I couldn’t do this without him.

But most of all, I promised him something I wasn’t sure I could keep.

“I’m not leaving you, Ronan,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

I sat there, unable to pull myself away, even as the hours dragged on, even as the nurse came in to check on him and gently asked me to leave for the night.

But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t leave him alone.

Not when he was like this, not when he was broken and vulnerable.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

I fell asleep with his hand linked to mine, my head resting near his. I needed to feel his warmth.

* * *

The nurse returned shortly after, soft-spoken but firm, asking me to step back for a moment so they could adjust Ronan’s pain medication. I didn’t want to leave his side, but I knew I had to go, for now, at least. I was just happy they stopped asking me to leave the hospital.

I reluctantly let go of his hand, feeling the loss of warmth and the disconnect. The room felt colder once I moved away, with the sterile white walls pressing in, making breathing harder.

I had spent so much time trying to protect Ronan and shield him from the pain of the world, but it felt like all of it was slipping through my fingers now. It was like everything I had worked for had been undone in one brutal moment.

I stood by the window, staring out at the dim light of the street beyond, trying to gather myself. The weight of the situation crushed me from all sides.

How could I have not known?

How could I not have seen what he was going through?

The questions circled around and around, and the more I tried to answer them, the more I just spiraled deeper into this pit of guilt.

But I couldn’t let myself fall apart—not here. Not now. Not when Ronan needed me. He needed me to be strong.

My eyes moved back to him, still so fragile, so still, as if everything he had been through had drained all the life from him.

I wanted to shout.

I wanted to demand the world make sense again, to turn back time and undo what had been done to him, but I knew it wasn’t possible. I knew that even if I could scream at the top of my lungs, it wouldn’t bring back the safety and security he had lost.

I didn’t accept that the prison couldn’t locate the men who hurt him. I wouldn’t accept the negligence of that entire rotten hell.

I sat back down beside him, my chair creaking under my weight, and gently took his hand again, my fingers brushing against the roughness of his skin.

“I’m here,” I said quietly, my voice hoarse. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers twitched slightly, and for a moment, my heart skipped a beat.

Was he waking up?

I leaned closer, searching his face, but his eyes remained closed. Still, the small movement of his hand gave me a shred of hope. Maybe he could feel me. Maybe he could hear me.

I had told him everything.

I had told him how much he meant to me, how his strength had been the thing that had kept me going for so long. How the mere thought of him made my heart beat faster, made everything—no matter how dark—feel like it might be okay, eventually.

But now, all of that seemed so fragile.

He had been broken, and I wasn’t sure if he would even want me anymore.

He had been hurt in ways that cut deeper than…anything. And I had no idea how to fix that. How to make him feel whole again.

“You’re stronger than you think, Ronan,” I whispered, barely audible, my breath shaky. “I know you are. We will get through this. I know we will.”

But deep down, I feared that no matter how much I said it, no matter how much I told him he could fight through it, the scars of what he had experienced would remain. They would follow him, no matter how many promises I made.

He couldn’t hear me right now. He couldn’t answer, but I had to believe that somehow, somewhere inside him, the Ronan I knew—the one full of fire and who never let anyone see him break—was still there.

“I’m not leaving,” I repeated, my voice steadying despite the storm inside me. “I’m here, Ronan. I’ll stay with you through this. Whatever happens.”

The silence in the room was deafening, but I didn’t mind it. It gave me the space to think, to process everything that had happened in the hours since I’d arrived. But as I sat there, watching Ronan sleep—recovering from that hell—I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting back to what he must have gone through. The pain. The terror.

And the helplessness he must’ve felt.

I leaned forward, my forehead resting against his hand. I had never felt so useless in my life, so powerless to help someone I loved so much. But I refused to give up on him. I wouldn’t let this break us. I wouldn’t let this break him.

The hours dragged on. The world outside felt distant, as though nothing existed beyond these sterile walls, beyond the low hum of machines and the quiet rustling of nurses and doctors.

I had no concept of time anymore.

All that mattered was him.

Ronan. And the vow I had made, quietly but with everything in me—that I would not leave his side, not for a single moment. It meant more than anything else, more than any other promise in the past.

When he woke up, I would be here. When the pain hit him, when the nightmares came, I would be here. When he was ready to speak about what had happened, I would be here.

And even if he never spoke a word, even if he never told me what had happened, I would be here.

I closed my eyes, the weight of it all settling over me again, but this time, it wasn’t as suffocating. Because I knew one thing—no matter what, Ronan wasn’t alone. And I would make sure he never felt alone again.

I…chose him.